


Exuberance is Beauty

by PetrichorPerfume



Series: On The Road So Far [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Feels, Brother/Brother Incest, Dean Winchester is Not Heterosexual, Dean is a Little Shit, Driving, M/M, Omorashi, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 07:11:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: Sam has needed to use the restroom for the past four hours, but Dean won't stop for anything.





	Exuberance is Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from William Blake's "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell."
> 
> I have plans to turn this into a series.

Another rest stop sped by them, and Sam groaned. “Dean, that was the last gas station for fifty miles,” he complained.

 

“Look,” Dean said, tearing his eyes from the road for just a little too long to meet his brother’s eyes, “Those vamps we just hit are vengeful sons of bitches, who won’t stop at anything to avenge their fallen family. _I_ wasn’t the one who wanted to high-tail it outta there without ganking the rest of them.”

 

“Come on, we’ve been driving for twelve hours straight,” Sam answered, shifting a bit in his seat. He’d long since given up on trying to find a comfortable position, but moving helped his predicament a little. It wasn’t much relief, but it would be enough – or at least it would have been enough, if Dean had stopped at the gas station they’d just passed. “Surely-” Another wave of desperation came over him and he winced. “Surely that’s enough distance. Vampires aren’t known to follow people across five state lines.”

 

“Yeah, well, we’ve never seen vamps like these, and I’m not taking any chances,” Dean said, the tone of his voice making it clear he wouldn’t be relenting on this matter. “If you’ve gotta go so bad, find a bottle in the backseat,” he added, voice softening slightly.

  
“I don’t have to-”

 

“Sam, I have lived in this car next to you for how many years? You think I don’t know your I’ve-got-to-go-pee signs like the back of my hand?”

 

Sam flushed. He hadn’t said anything yet, knowing how cross Dean was about them leaving the nest before finishing all of its members, but the urge to relieve himself had been making itself known for the better part of four hours, now, and it was quietly yet quickly becoming unbearable. “Dean, please.” He was all but begging.

 

“Another hour,” Dean said after a moment’s consideration. “Just wait one more hour, and then we can stop for the night and hope those angry mo-fo’s don’t kill us in our sleep.”

 

Sam knew that Dean had meant his offer to sound generous, but right now, another hour sounded like torture. His bladder was full to the bursting point, and he wasn’t sure he could wait another sixty seconds, let alone another hour.

 

Then Dean started rummaging in the backseat of the car, which was a good thing because Sam wasn’t sure his bladder would allow him to bend that way. After a moment, he procured an eight-ounce bottle and handed it to Sam, triumphant.

 

Looking at the thing in dismay, Sam said, “It’s pretty small, Dean.”

 

“Fine, don’t use it. Just trying to help, geez.”

 

Sam held onto his pride for seven and a half more minutes as he debated the pros and cons of using the bottle. His inner battle ended when they hit a particularly nasty series of bumps on the interstate, and he cursed and fumbled with his fly, modesty and propriety be damned.

 

“Don’t look,” he pleaded with Dean, not waiting for an answer before positioning the head of his cock at the mouth of the bottle.

 

Letting go was such sweet relief that Sam was barely able to stop himself a few moments later as the bottle filled up to capacity. He moaned as he clenched down on his tired muscles once more, and looked longingly at the bottle as he considered the merits of dumping its contents out the window and having another go at it.

 

“Don’t even think about it,” Dean said, and for a moment Sam was worried that his brother had developed the capability to read minds. “Just throw the whole thing out the window,” he continued, and Sam whimpered at the prospect.

 

“Do you have any more bottles?” Sam asked as he reluctantly cranked down the window and let his last chance of relief for fifty more miles fly out the window.

 

“What do you think this is? A pigsty? _No_ , I don’t have any more bottles.” Dean’s voice was harsh, and Sam couldn’t help but shrink away as far as the confines of the car would allow.

 

Ten more minutes passed in relative silence. Then Sam reached a breaking point and said, “Pull over.”

 

“What? No. Sammy, I am not letting you go on the side of the road like a little freaking kid.”

 

“Then stop treating me like one,” Sam whined.

 

“As soon as you stop acting like one, I will,” Dean shot back, letting his eyes wander off the road as he met Sam’s gaze. His brother’s eyes were frantic with desperation, and Dean thought to himself that he’d rarely seen anything so beautiful. “We’ll stop in another half an hour, as planned,” he continued, though it was becoming clear to both of them that Sam wouldn’t last that long.

 

“Dean, _please_ ,” Sam said after a long moment. “I’m begging you; pull over.”

 

Their headlights alighted upon a sign reading, “Next Rest Stop: 5 Miles.”

 

Dean’s voice was soft when he next spoke. “Think you can last five more miles?”

 

The thought of five more miles, even with Dean driving, made Sam’s bladder throb painfully. “Yeah,” he rasped, though he didn’t feel that confident in his ability to last even five more seconds.

 

Then Dean swerved, and Sam just about lost what was left of his fraying self-control. His bladder pulsed, and he could feel the front of his pants growing damp.

 

“Get out,” Dean said, and Sam had just time enough to wonder about the state of Dean’s glistening lips, which looked like they’d been bitten repeatedly, before he was fumbling with the door and forcing his stiff legs to cooperate as he launched himself onto the side of the road, one hand working on his fly while the other desperately tried to stop the flow of liquid leaking out of his bladder.

 

He groaned, about to give up and wet himself the rest of the way, when suddenly, Dean was there, helping him, saying, “I’ve got you, Sammy,” and pulling his fly down.

 

Sam took his cock in one hand while the other fisted in Dean’s shirt, holding on for support lest he collapse with the relief of finally, _finally_ being able to let go. They stood like that while Sam finished, Dean standing still and silent while Sam panted out a mantra of, “Thank you, thank you; had to go so bad; couldn’t hold it anymore; I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

Once Sam was empty, he let out a sigh of pure bliss and let his eyes flutter shut. “You got off on that, didn’t you?” He asked after a moment or two, eyes flying open to gauge Dean’s response.

 

“What? Sam, that’s _sick_ , I-” Dean faltered. “All right, maybe I did. And whose fault do you think that is?”

 

Laughing, Sam answered, “Mine, I’m guessing.”

 

“Damn straight,” Dean replied, clasping Sam’s shoulder with one hand.

 

“Unlike you,” Sam muttered under his breath. Dean was already making his way to the driver’s side, but his keen ear picked up on the words.

  
“I’m not the one who nearly wet myself like a little kid,” Dean said, shaking one long finger at his brother.

 

“And whose fault is that?”

 

Dean grinned. “Mine, all the way.” His eyes met Sam’s. “Now, hop in, unless you want to walk the last five miles. Bitch.”

 

“Jerk.”

 


End file.
